“Not physically.”
Silas glared at Draven. The callous disregard for Elizabeth’s plight grated on his nerves. How could he simply watch as a woman ran in terror, dodging behind every bit of protection she could devise in her efforts to escape? How could he watch and do nothing? He’d suffered enough of that with Kalyss. This was a fallen angel—a demon. The no-interference rule didn’t apply.
“Mentally is no better. It might as well be physical.”
“We must see what he wishes to show her,” Draven insisted.
“Look at him, Draven. How can his visions mean anything when they are likely twisted to suit his own purpose?”
“Because his visions are never corrupt. They happen just as he shows them.”
Silas turned toward Draven, his gaze narrowed. “He showed Alex the one of Maeve. You’re saying that will definitely happen?”
“Yes.” His voice held no hint of doubt.
“You’re saying we can’t save them? I refuse to believe that.”
Draven’s hand tightened on his arm. “The vision will come to pass. That’s the trick. They must be saved after it happens, which is nearly impossible.”
“But it can be done?”
“What leads to the vision also leads to the decisions made after it. What they do now will save them. Or doom them. Which is why we need to know this vision. The more information, the better.”
The fallen Seraph tore the last door from the cavern walls and tossed it to the side. Elizabeth’s face was framed by the black rock, her eyes wide, her cheeks pale. Then she disappeared, blocked by the mountain of darkness that was her father.
The door burst open behind her and heat blasted her back. Before she could escape, hard fingers circled her arm and she was pulled around to face her nightmare.
He towered over her, a mountain of brimstone with horns sprouting from his temples. Anger narrowed his vibrant blue eyes, all the more defined by the melted-charcoal ridge of his prominent brow line and the coal-black of his fierce face. Red peeked through the burned rock like embers of a banked fire—the only light in his hard, dark form.
“You can’t hide forever, Elizabeth. The truth will become known.”
She winced and tried to run through the door behind her. Hard hands closed about her head, the fingers pressing from her temples to the base of her skull. “You will see. This is too important for games.”
“I hate this. I can never change it, never fix it. Do you understand what that does to me? Do you even care?”
“This is different. You must pay attention.” His voice gentled, but the fingers pressing into her head didn’t. It made her dizzy at first, like she’d stepped into a kaleidoscope of ever darkening colors. They moved and swirled, the colors mixing to a dark brown trunk, branching forward. “The future is not a straight line, it is a tree. And each decision you face shoots forth a branch, one for each possible choice you can make. The closest branches are the largest, the most looming decisions you’ll make. Look behind you.”
She did, only instead of gazing at him, she saw a thin green road twisting through tangled black briar. It was the path she’d traveled so far. Straight at times, curving at others. Thin when traveled with doubt, thick with boldness when not.
“Now, look forward.”
Three trunks stretched before her, each wide with strength, with possibility. The one she was turned toward ended abruptly in a sheared-off stump.
“That is the path I’ve already shown Alex.”
She tensed.
“Yes, I know him. I saw him and he saw me.” His voice hardened, his disapproval clear. “As I said, you cannot hide. The truth will become known. Now, look to your path, Elizabeth.”
She faced forward again. A large mark seared from right to left across all three branches, slicing the right branch through and stopping just before slicing away the other two. The left branch grew thick and green, unmarred by the thin cut at its base. The cut was scarred over, but the branch had continued to grow healthier and stronger than even before the cut.
The middle branch stretched forward, withered and diseased, growing longer, but thin and weak, with no leaves or fruit ready to bud. Like a tree after a snow storm, when kindness would cut it down. But this branch knew no kindness. “This is the one I will show you.”
Elizabeth cried out, reaching for the healthier, happier path, but her father’s grip remained firm, steering her away from it.
“I know you want happiness, but you are not ready to choose what will lead you to it. You will reject the path I lay before you, believing you know a better way. Trust me, I know the folly of that, daughter. There is a difference between free will and willfulness, and it’s a painful lesson to learn. I will show you the path of willfulness, in the hopes you turn from it.”
Her view narrowed until only one path lay before her, a bridge covered with an arbor of blackened roses.
Elizabeth stood in a graveyard at night. Nearby streetlamps barely saved her from total blindness. A cold wind blew thick layers of multicolored leaves across the ground and around the jean-clad legs of the man standing before a row of granite headstones.
“Alex?”
He looked up, his gaze brutal in its empty coldness. “Hello, Elizabeth.”
She stopped abruptly and looked around. It disturbed her to see Alex so cold, despite sending him away earlier. Even his tone was empty of the warmth that he’d always held for her. The change was abrupt and painful in its contrast.
Lines bracketed his mouth in slashes that spoke of pain and grief. Nothing in his expression or stance spoke of welcome.
“Alex, what’s happened?”
He unlocked his clenched jaw and rolled his shoulders, seeming to force himself to talk to her. “Something went wrong. I’m not sure exactly where, but a decision was made that was irrevocable.”
Before she could round the gravestone to stand at his side, Alex came to hers. His arm out to block her from proceeding. “Not yet. There are a few things you must see, first.”
The world spun, blurring together before righting itself. They were in a crowded bar. Loud music pounded around them and through gyrating, dancing bodies. Bodies that never quite touched them as Alex guided her to a darkened corner where two men were talking. Nearly too quick and smooth to be seen, they shook hands. One pocketed cash and the other pocketed something else as he walked away.
Elizabeth didn’t recognize him, so her gaze returned to the dealer. His blond hair had streaks and tips of black that perfectly framed his eyes. His blue eyes sparkled dangerously, inviting anyone brave enough to come a little closer. She wanted to cry. “Not Tommy!”
Moving away, Alex said, “Come. There’s more to see.”
“What the hell is this? I’m not Scrooge. I don’t need to see past and present to get the point. I did something wrong. And because of that, the kids suffered and their lives took a wrong turn, right?”
Alex stared at her a moment, his lips tilting up in a cynical smirk. “So tough. So in charge. You think you know what this is about.”
She shook her head.
The room spun again. The room they appeared in was completely silent, startling after the volume in the bar. It was her apartment in Seattle. Tastefully decorated, clutter-free, and startling in its emptiness.
Elizabeth watched herself set a Christmas card on the mantel. Against it, she leaned a snapshot of her office staff standing in front of a colorfully decorated tree. The other, older Elizabeth touched the picture, then she walked away. Lines marked her face. They weren’t the kind from laughter, but the result of years of squinting at a computer screen and pursing her lips in thought or disapproval.
With a snap, she flipped the switch of the tiny tree on her coffee table. Little white lights lit up the tiny ornaments. Underneath it sat one present wrapped in cream paper with a metallic gold ribbon. Her boss wrapped them the same every year. Chuck said the cream and gold lent the gift importance, a sense of quality even if the gift i
nside had only cost a dollar. Not that his gifts were that cheap, but it was all about the impression they made.
The older Elizabeth lit a couple of votives and opened her window to the city lights. After creating the perfect Christmas atmosphere, she did what she’d done last year and the year before. And, since this was a vision of the future, what she’d do for a few more years to come. She turned on her computer and began to work.
Only now, standing on the outside, not focused on the technical problems of her latest project, did Elizabeth notice how quiet her apartment was. Only now, after spending three months in the home her grandparents had built, did Elizabeth notice how the lack of clutter made it feel so empty. To see that her one card was from the office, her one gift from her boss, well, that was …
“Okay,” Elizabeth burst out. “So the kids are broken and I’m pathetic. I’m still not sure where this is leading, Alex. What did I do or not do to make this happen?”
Alex gave her another smirk, but this time his eyes were sad. “It was nothing big, Elizabeth. It never is. Small choices made each day are like turning one minute degree at a time. You’d be just as lost if you stood in the middle of a forest and spun in circles.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you didn’t make just one choice. You may have had one goal, but all the small things leading to it added up. Be careful of every choice you make, Elizabeth.”
She looked back, around her apartment, at the life she’d built for herself. It wasn’t things or money that she’d missed during her time in Spokane. It wasn’t even the quiet so much as the calm. The space to deliberate over each choice so when she made it, she was certain it was the right one. She missed the security and sincere belief in herself that had provided the basis for everything she’d accomplished.
Knowing her thoughts and opinions were valued. Knowing they were backed by research and solid facts. Knowing she was in the right place, doing the right thing.
She had none of that anymore.
That was why she’d wanted to go back to the life she’d created for herself, not because she feared change or hated the weight of responsibility, but because she wanted space to think. The chance to keep her life on the best track she could. Now she had to wonder—was it a good enough reason? What direction did she need to choose for that healthy, strong branch of her vision-tree to become real?
“It’s time to go, Elizabeth.” Alex said the words and her apartment swirled around her, tilting and weaving, the colors blending. They appeared back at the leaf-strewn graveyard. This time, the wind cut through her jacket and she had to wrap her arms around herself to hold in heat.
In front of the row of headstones, beneath a half-empty tree, stood a woman and two men. Alex walked toward them, but they didn’t respond to his presence.
“Come on, Shelly. It’s freaking freezing out here.” An older boy tugged at Shelly’s arm, trying to pull her away.
Elizabeth tensed, examining the changes time had wrought on the graceful teen she had spoken to just hours ago. Hugging a threadbare coat around herself, Shelly knelt and brushed a few leaves from a granite marker. Her tear-filled eyes rimmed with deep smudges, the kind made from lack of sleep and too much worry. Grief had carved deep lines on her young face. Elizabeth stepped forward, compelled to comfort her.
“I’m not ready to leave yet, Tommy.”
Elizabeth’s steps faltered.
“I don’t want to be here all night. I’ve got business to do.”
The changes in him, just between the earlier vision and this one, were shocking. Tommy was unnaturally thin, with twitching hands, and sores marking his face. His faded jeans and black T-shirt were tight and worn.
Her hands pressed to her chest, Elizabeth examined the three people. Shelly, Tommy, and Kevin. What had happened? Where was Teddy? The toddlers and the baby? Who lay in the graves?
This couldn’t have happened just because she’d returned to Seattle. She would have only left them with someone who would take care of them. Their mothers. If Felicia didn’t shape up, the only choice was Dallas. How could that one choice lead to the destruction of the happy, bright children she’d cared for? Forcing her limbs to move, Elizabeth stumbled forward just as Shelly looked up.
“Wow. Never thought she’d show,” Tommy said.
“Well she shouldn’t have.” Shelly rose to her feet, pushing past her brothers. “You should have stayed away, bitch.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she stopped in her tracks. Shelly’s mouth was a hard, twisted line and her eyes held nothing less than hatred. “I don’t understand.”
“You never did! And it’s too late to change now. They’re gone, all of them. And it’s all your fault!” Shelly charged forward.
Elizabeth watched her approach, unable to halt her, and suddenly, terribly certain she deserved it. Kevin grabbed Shelly, but his eyes were cold, slicing into Elizabeth with pitiless contempt. “Leave her alone, Shelly. She’s not worth it.”
Shelly struggled against his hold, never turning her gaze from Elizabeth. Her mouth curved in a devious smile before she said, “You really don’t get it, even now. I can see it all over you, like a message painted on your face that only I can read. I tried to help you—but you were too stupid. It was a waste of my time.”
“Shelly,” Kevin warned.
“Let me explain clearly, so even you can get it.” Shelly glanced behind her and Elizabeth followed her gaze. Alex sat on a headstone, his back to them. Shelly faced her again. “We survived because he loved us. He saved us. But you, our aunt, our blood, failed. You only know how to run. You don’t even care what you leave in your wake.”
Elizabeth stared at the granite stones. That cowardly part of her that wanted to run flipped and rolled inside her chest and she didn’t want to meet Shelly’s eyes. Her voice was bruising enough.
“I told you it wouldn’t last. We lost them. Sarah, Jessie, Abby.” Shelly paused a second. When she spoke again, her voice was choked. “Veronica. All the little ones were adopted out. We don’t even know where they are. Kevin finally found us, but too late. Too late to be the family we were.”
The little ones couldn’t be gone. Her body was lying in a bed, cocooned by the heat of their little bodies. She’d locked them safe in a room she’d created for them. But what about … “Teddy?”
“He wouldn’t abandon us the way you did. Not on purpose.”
Elizabeth waited for more, but leaves fluttered through the air, drawing her eyes to the headstones. This time, Elizabeth examined them. She passed Shelly and the boys, barely noticing them disappear. Their purpose in the vision was done. Rounding the headstones, she read the names. Geoffrey and Dreux—strangers. Kalyss—oh, no. But seeing Teddy’s name brought her to her knees.
Alex sat on the ground next to her, his back supported by one of the stones. Elizabeth looked into his eyes, studied his grim expression. “All this to tell me to make better decisions? To weigh my options carefully? Is there someone who actually believes I don’t do that already?”
He shrugged.
“This is ridiculous. Everything! I weigh everything!”
“Then you make your decisions based on what, Elizabeth? Logic? Fear? Practicality? Figure it out before you’re led down a path you don’t want to go on.”
“How can I determine by staying or leaving how others lead their lives? That doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s the wrong question, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth looked at Teddy’s tombstone. “How did he die? What led him here?”
“He wouldn’t abandon those who needed him.”
Elizabeth sensed a hint of movement and looked up. Alex seemed to be fading. “Alex?”
“It’s time, Elizabeth.” He eyed her from head to toe, seeming to fix her in his mind. At last, a hint of the warmth he felt for her showed faintly as he slowly turned transparent. “Danger is coming. Choose well.”
Between one breath and the next, he faded, sinking into
the grave beneath him. Behind where he’d been, the words of the headstone became legible.
ALEXANDER MICHAEL FOSTER. HE WAS IN LOVE.
A strident buzz jerked Elizabeth awake. Her eyes flew open to stare blurrily at the ceiling and she shifted her numb arms from underneath the warm bodies all around her so she could turn off the alarm. It was all she could manage before curving into the soft little bodies of her nieces and allowing the tears to flow.
When God created the world, He’d made three realms. The barrier between each acted as a two-way mirror, so He could watch all of creation, Nephilim could watch themselves, and humans could only see their world reflected back to them. Yet, they all walked the same earth. Thus it was that Silas and Draven stood inside Elizabeth’s room watching her cry, and she’d never know they were there.
“How do you know so much about her father?” Silas asked Draven his most pressing question first.
“He was Maeve’s lover.”
“And you trust him?” Silas looked at Draven, hating that there was nothing for him to see, nothing to base his judgments on. Draven was an enigma in too many ways.
“I trust no one.”
Silas didn’t doubt that he was included in that statement.
“However,” Draven continued. “He betrayed Maeve when he told me of her plans for Dreux and Kai. He’d seen both of us in a vision, working together to stop her. He was the reason I came to you.”
“Why would he do that? A house divided will not stand.”
“The Angel of Foresight fell when he thought he knew better than God what should happen and what should not. He feels loyal to no one. When the world no longer fits as he believes it should, he seeks change. This is why he was known as the mercurial weather god, Adad, in Babylonia.”
“Adad will seek change even at the cost of his lover?”
“Even then.”
This meant the fallen Seraph’s loyalty could never be trusted. His goal would be ever unfathomable. “But his visions are true?”
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